Life Has Just Begun
by Hotchaolic
Summary: The victim let out a breath relieved that his torture would finally stop, "Thank God," he whispered. The other man chuckled darkly, "You don't need to call me God," WARNING: Torture and dark themes


_I got something like 40 prompts on Tumblr, this is one of the fills. Some will be short, some long, they are crossposted also on my LJ (.com)_

* * *

Reid was familiar with this.

A hidden cabin in the woods, the smell of blood and fear, the whimpers of a hopeless man begging his abductor for mercy. The gleam of a blade in the gloom of the room, the delicious and soft sound of flesh being carved by a blade, the screams of pain and fears and the whimpers of the captive begging his abductor for mercy that follow. The man hovering over his victim, threatening to cut him again and again, despite tears and pleas. The abductor, pleased to see the chained man scared to death, pleased to be the one with control over the situation, pleased to be the one calling the shots, deciding when and _if _the torture would stop.

Yes, Reid was too familiar with all this.

"Please… please stop," the victim pleaded desperately.

Another man, who looked less strong and younger than the other one, emerged from the darkness and walked up to the other man, placing his hand on his partner's wrist and stopping him. "I think it's enough," he whispered, his lips few inches away from the other's ear.

The victim let out a breath relieved that his torture would finally stop, "Thank God," he whispered.

The stronger man disappeared behind the captive's back who heard him placing the blood dripping knife on a surface and fumbling with something else. The other man chuckled darkly, "You don't need to call me God," he said crossing his arms to his chest and stepping back, making room for his partner who was coming back with another weapon in his hand, "besides, I'm not sure this is better than few cuts."

The victim's eyes widened when he saw a gun in front of him, his tormentor smirked and stretched his arm pressing the gun against the sweaty forehead of his victim.

The younger man aside smirked, waiting for the end of their game.

Suddenly the older man spoke, deep, dark voice which sent shivers of terror down the victim's spine, "Do you wanna try, babe?"

"Sure," the other man answered walking towards them and taking the gun from his lover's hands and standing in front of the chained man.

A quick glance at his lover was all he needed, seeing pride and love in his partner's eyes he pulled the trigger without hesitations. The body jerked as the bullet put an end to the annoying pleads.

"Spence, are you okay?" Aaron asked concerned, wrapping his strong arms around his lover's thin waist and holding him.

"I'm very okay," he responded, dropping the gun and pressed his lips to his lover's in a much needed kiss.

"I'm proud of you," Aaron said softly to him while stroking his hair, "I'm so fucking proud of you."

Spencer smiled and tugged his lover's hand, "Let's go home."

* * *

That night Spencer sat at his desk, twisting his pen nervously in his hands. He had stopped writing to his mom when he and Aaron had ran away leaving everything behind, a murdered son and five friends who would never understand they choices.

Spencer took a sheet of paper and began writing a letter to his mom. Not two pages filled with neat handwriting, telling her about his day, his feelings, everything, just a scribbled note to let her know he was doing well.

He knew that writing to his mom meant that the FBI would chase them, but after what he had done tonight he felt that writing to his mom a simple note, a confession, would be worth the risk.

"Come back to bed, babe." Aaron mumbled shifting on the bed behind Spencer.

No, he couldn't write to his mom, he couldn't risk loosing Aaron forever.

He crumpled the piece of paper and tossed it in the bin, stripped of his clothes, switched the light off and crawled under the covers straddling his equally naked lover and kissing his neck.

Aaron was his life now.

_Mama, just killed a man._  
_Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he's dead._  
_Mama, life had just begun._


End file.
